Davidia and the Prince of Triplock

by Ken Spargo

  Ignatus saw the powerful leader take charge. She was as tall as him. He knew that he couldn’t allow them into Triplock. It was his duty to protect it. As the army began to march, Ignatus walked out from behind a camouflaged rock and stood motionless in full sight at the front of the army. He was actually an Irrid in appearance and they paid no attention to him. Being unusually tall wasn’t necessarily uncommon.

  ‘Batbit. Fly to the Waterfall of Wetness and bring back a mouthful of running flow. Do not drop any of it. Hurry, it’s important.’ Batbit did as he was told, unlike a recalcitrant child.

  The Murmur and the Murmettes lingered above the clouds, ready to inflict their aggressive nature and destructive forces on the Irrids if failure was on the horizon. Ignatus sensed their presence.

  ‘How do I shape my gapper if I want to howl?’ A learner wanted to know what to do.

  ‘As big as possible,’ replied The Murmur. ‘We are here to be dangerous and not to act as light, fresh winds to please anything. Keep alert.’

  Irridia stopped dead in her tracks. It’s rather odd that an over-sized Irrid would impede her progress. Her dark eyes flashed angrily.

  ‘Who are you and why have you stood directly in our path?’ she demanded. ‘Are you one of us? I haven’t seen you before.’

  Ignatus thought a little, whilst the mass seethed with agitation.

  ‘I’m one of them. You will not attack Triplock. I’m here to protect it.’

  ‘What? By yourself? That’s laughable. You look like an ordinary Irrid. Get out of my way otherwise you’ll be lopped. Triplock cannot be saved.’

  ‘It will be. I am barring your entrance.’

  A great roar of jocular disapproval filled the valley. It sounded like it was to be a good day for Irridon. Loppers swayed like a palm tree forest in support of Irridia and the reaction to what they thought was a humourous comment. The sound travelled through vibrations.

  A small breeze was felt. Batbit was in sonic flight – well for a bat, that is! No moisture or dark mist was impeding his flight plan this time. He flew directly above Ignatus.

  ‘Spit it to me. Spit it to me,’ demanded Ignatus.

  Batbit zoned in and spat out his mouthful of running flow from the Waterfall of Wetness and, mixed with his own spittle, it dribbled over Ignatus. ‘Yuck,’ was the expected response. Instantly, Ignatus the Irrid began to change and die a slow death. In his place, stood a tall, strong, defiant and confident Iglood. A great crowd ‘ooh ah,’ filled the valley at the transformation. No Iglood had ever dared enter the Valley of Irridon as it was usually a death sentence. Either he was exceptionally brave or very foolish. He now stood directly in front of Irridia as the only barrier to the demise of Triplock; one solitary Iglood.

  The shock of seeing an Iglood in the valley scared the lights out of them. No longer would they be able to sleep without bad dreams. Irridia displayed an ugly set of dentures from a sneered mouth, with upturned corners in creases of rage. Did she dare ask the question that played on her mind? What is an Iglood doing here and is it lost?

  ‘State your business. Only death waits you here in this valley. It’s the rule.’

  ‘I appreciate the advice; however, I am the protector of Triplock. My destiny is to repel and destroy, if necessary, any attack or danger to the valley.’

  ‘You can’t be the protector. Only King Iglandus has that authority.’

  ‘It has now been transferred to me,’ he said proudly. ‘I must fulfil my duty.’

  ‘Impossible!’ screamed Irridia on the verge of a major hissy fit. ‘It can only go to bloodline. He has none.’

  ‘Au contraire. I am his bloodline.’

  Irridia’s heart almost exploded from her body in surprise. Her temperature soared. If this was true, she knew she had a powerful foe. Was this the moment she had always dreaded? The messenger sent to save Triplock. Only hers and King Iglandus’ son could rule, but she had him banished a long time ago. Was it payback time? Had he another she was unaware of. Sentiments ran rampant in her emotional confusion.

  ‘Convince me of your credentials. You cannot be related.’

  ‘I was banished a long time ago to live as an unseen, unloved, hideous creature inside a rock. I had to guard the Valley of Preciousness from within the Rock of Yocklaw, never to return. The gods smiled on me. My return to the Valley of Triplock has unlocked my past. I now know who and what I am and my destiny. I have no particular beef with any life form; however, when Triplock is at risk my role is to remove it and that includes you.’

  Irridia was dumbfounded, nonplussed and struck out with the truth. Was she preparing to fight her son?

  ‘Move aside. One Iglood cannot stop the advance.’

  ‘We’ll see. Another step closer and prepare to be defeated.’

  Ignatus was puffing with bravado. Irridia sensed a strength in him that no other Iglood had ever possessed. The time of his banishment had certainly developed his strength of character.

  ‘For the final time, step aside or face eternity,’ threatened Irridia, becoming tired of the verbal standoff banter. It was action she craved, not words.

  ‘Batbit, send the signal to Imagoodshot,’ instructed Ignatus.

  A loud, piercing shriek split the air. The Waterfall of Wetness also carried the sound. Ping, ping, ping was heard, followed by a whooshing sound. Then plod, plod, plod and stick, stick, stick landed in front of Irridia forming a barrier of flighters.

  ‘There are those straight trees again. We should have a forest of them somewhere. They must be stealing them,’ suggested an observant Irrid.

  ‘You idiot. These are the deadly flighters of Imagoodshot,’ yelled Irridia, none too pleased at the intelligence level of the verbaliser.

  ‘Do you know him?’ asked Ignatus.

  ‘I did, once.’

  ‘His flighters will decimate your army. Triplock is ready to defend itself. Return to goodness and peace. There is no need for conflict.’

  The Murmur had silently crept towards where he expected conflict to erupt. He wanted to be in on the decimation.

  ‘Before you cease to exist, there is something that you must know. I am the ex-Queen of King Iglandus, your mother,’ said Irridia.

  Ignatus gasped. His airwaves were knotted. His body hardened like a stone. He had no instant strategy to deal with the emotions of such an instantaneous magnitude. This evil, unhuggable piece of detritus, full of venom and hate toward his father, was actually his mother. Ignatus felt lost. How could he destroy his mother? Another strategy had to be formulated. He had to think quickly on his feet. The suddenness of the change of plan left him in a dilemma – destroy Irridia and save Triplock, or don’t destroy Irridia and Triplock is destroyed. Why wasn’t there a simpler solution? The two combatants stood silently staring at each other as the family feud was about to explode. Ignatus steeled himself for his next sentence.

  ‘Do you relinquish evil for good? If not, then we are enemies,’

  he bravely said.

  ‘I’ve feasted upon it far too long to give up its succulent taste. It’s an aphrodisiac for my soul. Yum, I’m hungry. It is also my chosen path. I am the rightful ruler of Triplock and nothing, including you, will deny me that right. Stand aside or face the Irridon wrath.’

  Consultation had run its course. It was now as useful as watching grass grow. The transformed Irrids waited on the fringes of the army ready to inflict more hugging.

  ‘Batbit, signal Imagoodshot.’

  Almost instantly, a wave of flighters flew over Irridia into the heart of her army. They all hit a mark. Confusion reigned. The dull thuds and writhing agony was difficult to watch in the gloomy conditions.

  Irridia screamed a hideous, vocal chant. She wasn’t arguing with an ex-husband. The Irrids raised their loppers. They ran forward with maniacal intent to attack. Ignatus put up one hand – he still had all his fingers – and flashed his lazer frayzer at the first two dozen who froze solid like statues. The expression of surprise and dismay on their
faces was captured forever. He turned away and slapped himself on the rump, disappearing from sight. He emerged in the middle of the fighting force. Once again, his lazer frayzer spurted out its immobilisation force, solidifying more of the hapless Irrids. In the meantime, the huggy Irrids pounced on the opportunity to hug and wrist-rub and help reduce the nasties.

  Irridia raged. She found Ignatus and fired her lazer frayzer at him. He was alert for its devastating intent and met it with a burst of his own. Boom! There were sparks flying everywhere. It lit the darkness to the brightest it had ever been. The battle had begun. Ignatus could see the fiery demons in her eyes. He kicked a soil thunderer at her. It hit her feet upending her into a horizontal position. There was no love lost for this relative. She raised her monster lopper and flung it at Ignatus. He ducked and jabbed out a long, spindley finger which grazed her leg and cut into it. Irridia screamed so loudly Triplock could hear her pain.

  ‘It sounds awful, Mr King,’ said Davidia. ‘My mum and dad never yelled at me like that. She should meet my parents and they’ll teach her not to scream. Close your ears Miss Percival, if you are here.’

  King Iglandus and his Igloods were prepared to battle any Irrid that passed their way.

  Ignatus was within touching distance. The wounded Irridia lashed out and caught him by the hands. The two formidable contenders gripped as strongly as any wrestler, each trying to subdue the other. They were evenly matched. Ignatus searched her eyes for redemption, but an evil veil had it well hidden. Her hands momentarily felt full of emotion for Ignatus, which infected his body with a good feeling although it was from an evil source. This was his mother he was holding hands with, even in the middle of battle. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind threw them off guard. They both scrambled for a vertical position. Irridia’s fitness was in prime condition for a senior Irrid.

  No life form could interfere as a secret field of particles prohibited entry into the circle of last effort. Only one would survive. They jumped, parried and slashed at each other. One was perspiring a rotten, dead smell and the other the sickly, sweet-scented one. Many felt safer on the outside. Phew!

  They both used their invisibility techniques to gain the upper hand. There were high jumps to avoid the leg lopper, sideways bending so a spindle finger didn’t probe too deeply, kicking to fend off the other body’s nearness, firing of lazer frayzers to frizzle the opponent with frying potential, and a mass of other movements too quick for the eye to see.

  Irridia was as cunning an opponent as she was a mother and suddenly stopped and pretended to cry and give up. Ignatus was sucked in with the seeming acceptance that all was lost. He bent over and, wham, a hand with the feeling of a death punch, landed squarely in his stomach and threw him backwards. He landed breathless and in extreme pain, his doom almost upon him. Stunned, he looked upwards at his opponent. In that moment, a slight eye-flicker caught his attention. Was she upset at hurting him? Did she feel sorry for him? No, it was a vision of victory that trembled throughout her body, looking at the hapless form of Ignatus. Was this his last light? Would he be banished forever to the dark if he lost?

  ‘It’s time to say goodbye to mamma, sweetie,’ drooled Irridia – it was almost over, or so she thought it was – ‘and I was just getting to know you,’ she teased.

  Had the new guardian of Triplock met his match? After all, he was only fighting a woman who it was assumed had less considerable strength than he had. Against Irridia, many of his powers didn’t work because they were both from Igloodian stock and some of them had nullified the effect on each other. Had they both fought any other life form, their individual powers would be devastating in any contest. They seemed to have become two blocks of ice, one lasting slightly longer than the other, as they melted in the heat of battle.

  Ignatus thought that the ground was certainly filthy as he lay there unable to continue the battle for goodness. His mother certainly packed a punch. He wondered what gymnasium she attended. Her pectoral muscles were strong and her lithe movements were deadly. Things looked as gloomy as the land of Irridon as he lay there wheezing and sucking in vital oxygen. It took a while longer to recover in Irridon as the air quality was a little short on goodness, just like its inhabitants.

  ‘I’m sorry mama,’ he emotionally spoke. ‘There’s not much time for a friendly relationship.’

  ‘It’s over. You, your king and the Valley of Triplock are mine,’

  she chimed.

  Ignatus had been feigning injury to secure an advantage. Women’s intuition, which every female possesses, had twigged her curiosity about Ignatus. She wanted to know at least something about him before the sentence was dealt and the opportunity was lost. Maybe that’s why the death blow hadn’t been dealt just yet.

  Ignatus quickly rolled over onto his side like a playful puppy. He kicked out his legs at the advancing Irridia and fortunately clipped an ankle. She screamed a diatribe of Irridion abuse at him. He regained his feet and swung his lopper at her. Its intending damage was met solidly with a defiant lopper swing and a foot landed in Ignatus’ special body region. Her movements were razor sharp. He winced in excruciating pain. Half doubled over, unable to straighten himself, he saw what he thought was to be the fatal blow. In his mind, a slow motion newsreel began to unfold. He saw elements of an early memory of his life, with two loving adult Igloods enjoying a playful session with a smaller, smiling version. Life felt good then. Visions flashed through his mind as if fast tracking to see them all before the permanent dark ascended upon him. His head would be separated from his body and Triplock would vanish forever. A cold, fear of loss and disappointment enveloped him. He was sad that he would no longer be able to see his friends, Davidia and Batbit, and his new life would be cut short. It wasn’t a good picture that was mentally presented. He looked up at Irridia in full lopping flight. She had no emotions except to ride the dark horse. Her face was contorted with rage. Victory had an uneasy facial grimace, when in one swing, all the dreams of power, planning and satisfaction materialise into a powerful moment. It was to be all hers.

  Miraculously, Ignatus, who was also a lightening rod on two legs, was able to tumble roll like a bocce ball out of harm’s way in that defining moment. Survival is a great driving force of the good. Irridia’s lopper hit the ground so hard the clang could be heard valleys away. The ricochet sent shock waves up her arms with such force that it looked like she had been left shivering vigorously in a cold storm. Ignatus had been a breath away from extermination.

  Her face reddened with rage. Her nasty, snorting Irridon behaviour exploded into maniacal rage. Her body hurt more from missing her target than the pain it gave her.

  Her vocal sounds and thought rages sent vibrations of fear everywhere. Ignatus controlled his emotional feelings, as he now knew it was too late for Irridia to be returned to the path of goodness. He felt her pain. Evil had damaged her emotions beyond repair. Ignatus had to use his power of last resort if there was any hope of retrieving Irridia from the darkness of evil. It was a forlorn hope, but it must be tried.

  As Irridia performed with an angry waving lopper, Ignatus rolled over and secreted Igloodool from his wrist glands. It was a weapon of last spurt. Only a royal Iglood was endowed with this special substance.

  He flicked it onto her outer casing. She hadn’t noticed it or could avoid it; such was her vision blinded by rage. The small droplets were a burning sensation from hell. Stunned by the excruciating pain, she howled like a banshee, generating fear in all those who heard it. In anger, Irridia was the most frightening performer. Finally, Ignatus managed to stand up and, in sympathy, screamed a similar frightening response. They were like a larynx symphony top line act. The valley shook and shuddered. No, it wasn’t the Irrid army passing wind – that would have been worse. The Murmur almost choked in fright on his own wind. The three Murmettes faded away to a gentle breeze. The fighting lulled to a stop. The eyes of hatred and lopping behaviour all froze. Only the two frenzied voices engaged in any form of combat.r />
  Irridia was wailing from the effects of the Igloodool goodness eating at her insides. She was trying to resist its changing capabilities. Ignatus was calling the ancient fathers for support. The winds swirled from the heavens as Ignatus absorbed their strength. Irridia had fallen foul to her only combat flaw, Igloodool substance from an ancient Iglood. It wasn’t a death sentence, but life changing, returning her to her past, the one she had abandoned.

  ‘I’m not going back,’ she moaned.

  Ignatus stood as tall as a tower block.

  ‘Accept the change. It’s irreversible.’

  ‘Never,’ she vehemently protested.

  ‘Then Irridon is over. I call on the great ancients to fill me with power to return the valley to goodness.’

  ‘You always were a spoiled youngster, you glob of Iglood glue. No wonder I had you banished, hopefully forever. I didn’t know that my future foe would be my own son. I never expected to see you again. You have ruined my plans for a rotten future.’

  ‘So, it was you who banished me,’ whimpered Ignatus, as if someone had stolen his last lolly.

  ‘Yes. You were in my way for control of the Valley of Triplock. Nothing appealed more to me than the aphrodisiacal qualities of power, my power. You were an inconvenience.’

  ‘But mother.’

  ‘I’m not your mother. That person left a long time ago.’

  ‘You can be saved.’

  ‘No, I can’t.’

  With a loud, thundering crash, a huge vortex opened up in the sky operating like a massive vacuum cleaner. The Murmur had seen his plans ruined and his vow to destroy Irridia was put into action. He had craved power over land-based life forms and Irridia was his tool of possibility to make it happen. The Murmur didn’t possess the power to defeat the Igloods, but a disgruntled royal with the right tuition could. Now it was time to exact revenge for her failure.